The Year the Lake Caught Fire
by Sweetie Amoeba
Summary: I'd never seen water burn before. I'd heard it could happen, but really, how likely was it?


In the summer of 1982, northern Colorado was dryer than ever. Trees crisped up and were devoured by beetles, lakes vanished in a matter of days, and the mountain pines were at serious risk for wildfires. People were advised not to go camping but some did anyway. The fishermen, the mountain bikers, the outdoorsy types who really knew their way around; people mostly just did what they wanted. Rather Lake, a small lake located far into the mountains, caught fire that summer for reasons not many people really cared about. People had been illegally dumping toxic oily waste into the surrounding forest and it had been seeping quietly into the lakewater for years. No one knew about it until one sleepy early-June evening when a rainless lightening storm rolled in over the mountains and struck wildly at the forest with electricity. A dead tree was hit, burst into flames, split open and fell into the slick, black water.

You can guess what happened then.

Rather Lake burned for four days. On the third day, Johnny and I and our families showed up at the cabin. The rangers were hesitant to let us drive very far up the road but Dad convinced them by saying that we "weren't going in very far" and that we'd "probably be back within the hour." Wrong! We were spending the entire weekend! Take that, safety freaks.

My dad and John Lawrence the First were in business together. Had been since I was four. Mom and Mrs. Lawrence frequently hung out at Encino Oaks, drinking and swimming in the summer, drinking and playing cards in the winter. Things worked the same way from year to year.

We'd been doing it for six years. Going to the lake, I mean. Dad and Mr. Lawrence bought the cabin together when I was six and we've spent a few days there every summer since then. Sometimes we'd go twice. It was a long drive from California, straight into the wild west, but to get away from the sirens and crowds and smog was something I really looked forward to.

The cabin was made to look like an old pioneer's house, like something from Little House on the Prairie, but on the inside it was completely normal, separate rooms and all. All the rooms were dusty, with cheap plastic curtains and worn cream-colored carpet. The porch light attracted moths and sometimes at night I could hear the gentle tapping of dozens of them trying to kill themselves on the bulb. The refrigerator hummed loudly, but not so loudly that it kept me awake.

There was Mom, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, and the two of us. The cabin had two bedrooms, so Johnny and I had to sleep in the living room. We usually swam and boated all weekend long but since that was out of the question this time, all we could really do was sit on the front porch and watch the fire. That was the first thing I did after unpacking.

I'd never seen water burn before. I'd heard it could happen, but really, how likely was it? The worst was apparently over but at the far end of the lake huge clouds of black smoke still rose into the sky. If I squinted I could see flames but they had died down and weren't very scary-looking.

Johnny swung the screen door open and flopped down next to me on the porch swing. He had a pair of binoculars with him. He raised them to his eyes and sighed.

"Jesus, look at that," he said absentmindedly.

"Let me see."

He handed me the binoculars and I peered through, searching around until I found the fire. It burned low over the water's surface and really didn't look like much.

He chuckled. "Now I see why they didn't wanna let us come up here. Hell, we're probably half-dead already from the fumes! Goddammit, Ali, I think it's time we get our affairs in order."

"We'll be dead in hours!" I replied, joking with him. "I want to be buried with my radio."

"I want to be cremated!" he exclaimed, "And I want to have my ashes dropped over the roof of the dojo."

We both laughed, then squinted at the lake and didn't say anything for a while. The idea of death didn't disturb me as much as it did when I was younger. I used to be so afraid. I'd pray to God every night to keep me safe, from car crashes and house fires and murderers with knives. As I got older I stopped thinking about it. Horror movies didn't even scare me. Johnny was silent. I wondered if he was thinking about death, too. His face was expressionless.

Both of us were only-children, which is rarer than you would think. All my friends had siblings and I'd always been sort of jealous. Growing up, I wanted a sister more than anything and Johnny had been like a brother to me for so long that it was pretty much the same thing. We got along very well.

The fuck with that. If I had an actual sibling we'd probably hate each other's guts.

And since Johnny and I were close enough to almost be like siblings, I could read his voice and emotions like a trashy magazine. He was acting unusual, joking about death. I wondered if he was homesick. Doubted it. Nothing gets through to Johnny, especially not homesickness.

We didn't speak again until the moms called us in for dinner.

"Thank you for the food we eat,

Thank you for the world so sweet,

Thank you for the birds that sing,

Thank you God for everything."

Mrs. Lawrence chirped out a grace and we clinked our silverware and started eating. Tonight was pasta, since it was boxed and wouldn't spoil during the long car ride. Watery sauce from a can, no meatballs, white bread on the side. The grown-ups had a bottle of cheap chianti and were pouring deep glasses.

Johnny leans over. "Which is darker," he whispered, "Navy blue or cadet blue?"

I thought for a second. "Navy."

"Correct. Which is fluffier, cumulus or stratus?"

Clouds? What the hell? "Cumulus."

"Right again. Which-"

"So Ali, I hear you made the cheerleading team" Mrs. Lawrence interrupted.

"That's right," I said through a mouthful of bread. "Practice starts in August."

"I was a cheerleader in high school, it's a family tradition!" mom chimed in. "I was leading cheers when Bucky Goldstein was playing."

Bucky Goldstein was a football player mom knew in high school and apparently he went on to become a hugely famous athlete, then retired really early because his doctor told him he'd die if he kept getting concussions. Mom brought it up every time someone mentioned football. Everyone at the table had heard the story and already knew.

"And Johnny here is on the soccer team!" Mr. Lawrence said proudly, placing a hand on Johnny's shoulder. "What position again?"

"Center forward."

"That's nice, son, that's very nice."

Johnny made an impressed noise at this dull compliment. "Thanks, dad."

Johnny's dad was even more absent than mine. I suppose any little piece of attention would mean a lot to him. He seemed pretty happy that his dad was proud of him. Seriously, what was the deal with Johnny? Normally he just doesn't give a damn. The air smelled like smoke.

The entire table was looking at me. "It smells like smoke," I said quickly.

Dad sniffed. "She's right. I'll close a window."

"And trap all the smoke in here? I'm not sure if that's a good idea." said mom. "I really don't think it's safe to stay here for more than one night."

"Aww mom," I whined.

"Now Ali," she said, "how safe can it possibly be to stay in a house right on the edge of a _burning lake?"_

"If we close the windows, no smoke can get in," said Mrs. Lawrence. "We can just turn on the air conditioner."

There were murmers of agreement and the adults moved to do exactly that. Johnny stared at his plate.

"It'll get better when the wind changes direction," he reassured me after a moment.

I wasn't worried about asphyxiating in my sleep. "If it really wasn't safe, the rangers wouldn't have let us get this close to the lake."

"We decieved them, remember?"

I realized he was right. "Yeah, we did."

"I just think we ought to be more careful."

The adults moved throughout the house, closing windows and air vents, turning on the AC units in the bedrooms and living room.

"We'll be fine, Johnny."

"No, I know."

I sneakily took a sip of mom's wine and offered some to Johnny. He accepted it and grimaced at the taste. I laughed.

Around 1 a.m., the night winds blew the front door open and scared the bejeezus out of us. I was on the couch, and Johnny was in a sleeping bag on the floor. I was pulled out of sleep by a spooky creaking noise and opened my eyes just in time to see the wooden door gliding open. I freaked out silently and smacked Johnny awake.

"Oh my god, I thought someone was trying to break in!" I whispered after we'd closed it securely. My heart was pounding and I was freezing cold from the air conditioner's arctic blasts.

"Yeah, someone must have forgotten to lock it." he whispered back.

I knelt on the couch and peered out at the porch. No one was there, thank goodness. Beyond the dark grass and water, the lake was still burning low.

"Johnny, come check this out."

He moved through the darkness and knelt beside me. "The lake,"he said, without much inflection.

"Yeah, isn't it cool? It's much easier to see now that it's dark."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, we should go out there."

He looked sideways at me, startled by the idea. "Really?"

"Yeah." I whispered, and headed for the door. He stayed on the couch, watching me.

"Are you sure?"

"C'mon, we won't get too close."

He hesitated, then crept over and pulled on his sneakers.

Getting the door open quietly wasn't a problem. Getting off the porch and away from the house without being detected was easy. We walked the path around the lake, closer and closer to the fire. It wasn't cold, even in our pajamas. The feeling of being outside in the middle of the night was new and strange, but I liked it. Everything was so quiet. The air smelled fresh and cool, even with the smoke.

After about five minutes of walking, Johnny stopped in his tracks. He was looking at something on the ground. I turned and waited for him to catch up with me but he wouldn't move.

"Ali," he said, "come look at this."

I walked over and followed his gaze. Lying there in the moonlight on the shores of the lake was the biggest dead fish I'd ever seen in my entire life. It must have been three feet long, thick as a melon. It was covered in oily sludge and its mouth hung disturbingly open.

"Jeeesus, would you look at that," said Johnny out loud, and I pulled a face. It was slimy and disgusting and I was absolutely delighted.

"Woah," I said.

"Look at the size of that thing!" He continued. "Lord almighty, somebody ought to take a picture. I mean, _Jesus!"_ We were close enough to the fire so that the flames threw his features into glowing detail. He wasn't smiling and there was a slight hysteria in his eyes, like he didn't really believe what he was seeing.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Johnny-boy!" I scolded. I started down the path, but he wouldn't follow me. He just stared at the fish in disbelief, ignoring me and the fire. I gestured for him to catch up with me, but he just stood there.

"Jesus," he muttered, emotionless.

That was when I realized what was really going on. He was afraid. Johnny Lawrence was _afraid._ All this time, while I recklessly inspected it, the burning lake was scaring him half to death.

What was it about this lake fire that disturbed him so much? With horror I began to imagine what these past few hours must have been like for him, keeping his worry to himself, secretly terrified that we might die. What else was he hiding? What else was he afraid of? The fire was scary, for sure—but we weren't in any real danger, were we?

Were we?

The fish was dead. Johnny wouldn't look up.

I stepped through the grass and flung my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. My face was buried in his chest, blocking the flames out of my vision. As he returned the hug, a terrible sadness came over me. _How was I supposed to know? How could I not have known?_

His hand in mine, I led him down the path towards the cabin, death and the lake behind us, burning and burning and burning in the dark summer night.


End file.
